Harry Potter and the Greengrass Connection
by Rumour of an Alchemist
Summary: What if it turns out in October, 1986, whilst Harry is living with the Dursleys, that Harry is betrothed to a witch less than a year older than him called Daphne Greengrass? Cross-posted from another site. Rated T. March 5, 2016: On hiatus after chapter 7 (Harry's birthday, 1987, part 1), for now, bar corrections. Next update time unknown.
1. October 25th, 1986

(March 5th, 2016: As of the posting of the seventh installment of this story (July 31st, 1987, Part 1) this story is on indefinite hiatus, whilst I work on some of my 'Saint Potter?' universe pieces (some of them much in need of update), post some one-shots, and perhaps push forward other incomplete stories. Time and health permitting, I do intend to come back to this story at some point, however.)

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: This story originated on an alternate history site where I post as 'Look More Closely Later'. Since it's on a part of that site which has restricted access, I've decided to cross-post some of the story to this website. This story assumes a version of the magical world in which 'betrothal arrangements' have some legal and social standing in the UK, as of the late twentieth century, and that in late 1979 James Potter entangled his (then unborn) son, Harry, in one. With a Wizarding War otherwise ongoing, as in canon, Voldemort is nonetheless assumed to have gone after the Potter family, as in canon, and to have been 'defeated' by a bouncing Killing Curse due to maternal sacrificial protection on the night Hallowe'en, 1981. Some of the circumstances surrounding this differ from canon, but with both his parents dead, Harry as in canon has been placed with the Dursleys, and has had an experience much as in canon, up until the opening of this story in the early evening of Saturday 25th of October, 1986, when a knock comes at the door of number four Privet Drive...

Further Note: The story, unless indicated otherwise in notes, at the start/end of a chapter, is from Harry's perspective. This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

"Nobody is _ever_ going to accuse the Greengrasses of not fulfilling their legal obligations." the strange slightly haughty man said to Harry's Uncle Vernon. "I am here to collect Mr. Potter to bring him to my daughter's seventh birthday party."

It was Saturday, 25th October, 1986, and six year old Harry Potter had been drying up pots and pans – very carefully, lest he drop one and break something – in the kitchen of his aunt and uncle's house, when there had come a rat-tat-tat at the front door.

Harry's uncle had gone to answer the door, and had admitted a man in a smart black business suit, impeccably creased white shirt, and wearing over all of that a swirling black cloak.

And he had on his hands black gloves of something soft and flexible that looked a _bit_ like leather – only not slightly shiny like all the leather gloves Harry had seen up until now were.

Harry probably shouldn't have left the kitchen, but he had been curious about what was happening; they hadn't been expecting anyone for dinner tonight, and Uncle Vernon hadn't said anything about expecting a before-dinner meeting with a business colleague.

Besides sounding haughty, the visitor had a slightly posh accent.

"What legal obligations are those?" Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes.

The stranger responded by narrowing his own eyes – in a somewhat scarier way than his uncle had done, Harry thought.

"Don't think you can trick me by feigning ignorance. Mr. Potter is formally betrothed to my eldest daughter, Daphne Circe Greengrass. And under the way such obligations work, we are formally required to ensure Mr. Potter attends _her_ seventh birthday unless he is detained by important Potter family business – otherwise any future dowry is increased – as Mr. Potter also is required to invite her to attend his seventh birthday, otherwise any future dowry is halved."

"Vernon. I think that they must be _those kind of people_." Harry's aunt said, who had in the meantime arrived on the scene, an odd look on her face.

"If you mean upper-class, wealthy, tradition-respecting pure-bloods, certainly." the stranger said.

"Ah, of course." Harry's Uncle Vernon said, adopting his 'calculating' expression. "Well of course you may take Harry away then, although for his safety we haven't told him a thing about his parents, as we were given to understand from the directions that that Chief Warlock fellow gave us that we weren't supposed to, or indeed about this arrangement with your family."

The stranger scowled.

"Albus Dumbledore is perhaps somewhat radical at times with his ideas."

* * *

Harry's head was spinning. Having been brought by magic and the stranger (who turned out to be called 'Mr. Greengrass') to this large house (which seemed to be about four times the size of number four Privet Drive), within the past half hour Harry had discovered that he was a wizard, that his parents had been a witch and wizard, and that there was a whole hidden society of witches and wizards in Britain.

He'd also discovered that he was 'betrothed' to the seven year old girl who was currently pulling faces at him across the dinner table of the Greengrass family (that family also being witches and wizards, and it in fact having been Daphne's father who had arrived to collect Harry from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's house). Harry didn't _quite_ understand everything that that ('betrothed') meant, but it seemed that before Harry's father had died, he had agreed with Mr. Greengrass that basically Harry and Daphne would get married to one another when they were older, unless there were really good reasons for them not to do so.

And _tomorrow_ Daphne was going to have a really big party, but today – her _actual_ birthday – the Greengrasses were having a small family meal, at which Harry's presence was required.

Not that Harry was objecting to going out like this for a meal and especially not when he saw the plates for what it turned out was just the _starter_.

He felt a bit bad about not bringing a present, though. He knew from his cousin Dudley's parties that when someone invited you to their birthday, you were supposed to take them a present. Maybe the Greengrasses wouldn't mind because this wasn't a party, and nobody had sent him an invitation beforehand?

* * *

"You don't look like how I'd thought you would." Daphne Greengrass said to Harry critically. "The books don't seem to have anything right, except your eyes and the scar."

Dinner was over, and Harry had been left alone in a room with several big green leather chairs, some bookcases and a soft red carpet, with his 'betrothed'. Since the chairs were adult size, they were currently sitting on the carpet, by the big marble fireplace. Even sitting, Daphne was taller than Harry (but she was quite a bit older), and she had brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a dark green dress, with wide bits of frilly lace around the ends of the sleeves and around the bottom of Daphne's neck. A silvery bracelet was sometimes partly visible through the lace, around her left wrist.

Harry had gathered during dinner that he was famous amongst witches and wizards for something about how his parents had died but which he had survived. He was in books, and some books even had _whole chapters_ about him. Talk about the topic had got somewhat awkward once Harry had made it clear that he didn't know a thing about it – never having seen, much less read, any of these books, and that his aunt and uncle _really_ had only ever told him that his parents had died in a 'car crash'.

"Maybe they've never seen me?" Harry guessed. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone writing a book looking at me."

"They probably would have been invisible." Daphne said. "Because of the muggles." She hesitated, and Harry tried to remember if he'd been told what 'muggles' were, before she carried on: "Or maybe they just made things up. Except for the bits that are right." She furrowed her forehead. "Somebody _must_ have seen you to know about the scar. That happened right before you got passed on to your uncle and aunt, and they're _not_ wizards, so they can't have told anyone." She paused. "Anyone magical I mean. And they wouldn't anyway. Not since they were supposed to be keeping you safe."

Harry bit his tongue, unsure what to say. The whole evening was getting very confusing – especially since he was now wondering if somehow Dudley and his friends scaring off anyone who tried to spend too much time around Harry at school was supposed to be part of this 'keeping safe' business? He was absolutely desperate not to somehow mess up this 'betrothal' thing though, if it meant he occasionally got taken away from Privet Drive to meet these posh-but-not-nasty people, and given nice meals.

* * *

Mr. Greengrass had eventually rescued Harry from not-quite-knowing-what-to-say-to-Daphne and returned Harry to Privet Drive, where Harry discovered that he had been moved into Dudley's spare bedroom during the handful of hours of his absence. Harry's aunt looked very nervous about something, and his uncle looked very _thoughtful_.

Maybe Harry's aunt had been thinking about presents whilst he was away at the Greengrasses' house, and how embarrassing it must have been for Harry to go to someone's birthday meal without having one to take with him. Whilst Harry had been away, she had produced a mysterious package wrapped in pink paper from somewhere, which upon Harry's return she had said something to Mr. Greengrass about 'not having had time to wrap up', when Mr. Greengrass had arrived earlier to fetch Harry. She handed it over to Mr. Greengrass, then excused herself to 'get Harry ready for bed'.

"How exactly are we supposed to contact you to invite your girl to celebrate Harry's seventh birthday?" Harry had heard his uncle asking Mr. Greengrass as Harry was removed hurriedly by his aunt up to what was now suddenly his room.

* * *

Author Notes:

At the time of the initial writing of the story, not much is mentioned of the Greengrass family in the original seven Harry Potter books, nor in other J.K. Rowling related sources of which I'm aware. I'm taking the liberty to develop the family as I see fit, to suit the story. In this universe, Daphne, her annoying younger sister (not yet mentioned, in-story) and her parents live in a house at St. George's Hill, Surrey. Daphne's birthday is the 25th October.

Harry's 'Uncle Vernon' in this story is assumed to be relatively shrewd (in canon he is a highly placed businessman, after all) and not to have had any significant experiences of magic at all, prior to the opening of this story. His dislike of magical things (if any) is assumed up to this point to have been a matter of purely something done/said to keep his beloved wife happy, with the consequence that if given sufficient motive, he is prepared to be 'flexible' in his views.

Besides Daphne's parents (who didn't tell Daphne about the arrangement until the morning of her seventh birthday), only a very few people (most of them ex-Order of the Phoenix members) know that the betrothal arrangement exists. It certainly isn't public knowledge in either the magical or regular world. (Daphne's parents have kept quiet about it in the belief that if the knowledge became widespread it could make their family targets for things such as kidnapping attempts by those thinking it would be a way to get at or exert pressure on Harry Potter.)

Harry was a bit tongue-tied and surprised during his visit to the Greengrasses' house, and didn't really say much about himself or his up-till-then-regular 'home' situation.

Oh yes, and as indicated in the opening notes, some of the immediate circumstances pertaining to the Potter family leading up to and immediately after Hallowe'en 1981, are somewhat different from canon. For one thing, Lily was _not_ pleased to discover that during a 'lad's night out drinking' (this was before the Potters were significant Death Eater targets), James had betrothed his unborn son without so much as consulting her about it. She put most of the blame on Sirius, and after Harry's birth insisted on a 'more responsible man' than Sirius as godfather for Harry...


	2. October 26th, 1986 - December, 1986

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: As mentioned in the first chapter, this story originated on another website; given the relative enthusiasm with which the first installment has been received here, I'm in a position to update with this installment (and perhaps with a couple more after it) relatively quickly, since the material, at least as far as the story goes, is in essence already written. Past that point, updates will get somewhat haphazard in timing since I have a number of other calls upon what 'writing time' I have. As a reminder, this story assumes a version of the magical world in which 'betrothal arrangements' have some legal and social standing in the UK, as of the late twentieth century, and that in late 1979 James Potter entangled his (then unborn) son, Harry, in one (with one Daphne Greengrass). With a Wizarding War otherwise ongoing, as in canon, Voldemort nonetheless went after the Potter family, much as in canon, only to be 'defeated' by a bouncing Killing Curse due to maternal sacrificial protection on the night Hallowe'en, 1981. Some of the circumstances surrounding this differ from canon, but with both his parents dead, Harry, as in canon, was placed with the Dursleys, and _had_ had an experience much as in canon, up until the opening of this story in the first chapter, when during one evening in late October, 1986, a knock came upon the door of number four Privet Drive...

Further Note: This chapter is from Harry's perspective, and takes place during the latter stages of 1986. This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

The morning after his unexpected visit to the Greengrasses' house, Harry found himself on the receiving end of a heavy-duty questioning from his aunt and uncle about it. They wanted to know what the house looked like, how the family dressed (and in particular did their clothes 'look expensive'?), and what, if anything, they'd said about Harry or Harry's parents? During the questioning Harry's uncle looked more and more calculating – and at several moments he stroked his walrus moustache, which was a sign that he was thinking _really_ hard.

Harry's aunt and uncle _also_ wanted to know if Harry had mentioned to any of the Greengrasses that up until now his 'bedroom' had consisted of the cupboard under the stairs? Harry said that nobody had asked him about where he went to sleep, and he hadn't mentioned it. Uncle Vernon then said that up until now it had been necessary for Harry to sleep in the cupboard because it was 'character building', but now that Harry was so old, he didn't need his character building that way any more, which was why he had been moved last night into what would now be his own bedroom.

Harry thought that that sounded like an explanation that would make sense if he were an adult – and which probably didn't matter much right now anyway – but he was sufficiently confused about one particularly important part of this 'character building' business to ask about it: He asked why Dudley had always had his own bedroom and never been in a cupboard? Uncle Vernon beamed and said that it was because Dudley wasn't a junior wizard who had blown up another one at the age of one and a quarter, and so it wasn't as important that Dudley build up his character.

And then Aunt Petunia spoke about how Harry had 'really' arrived in Privet Drive. She said she'd never been told any of the details of what had happened to Harry's parents – Harry had simply been dumped on the doorstep one night in November, 1981, along with a letter from one of his mother's old teachers saying that Harry's parents had been killed by an evil wizard and that – for the safety of Harry himself and the Dursleys – they must take him in. Oh: and the letter had said that Harry must have 'as normal an upbringing' as possible. Exactly what that last bit had been meant to mean had not been made very clear. Aunt Petunia said that she and Uncle Vernon had taken it to mean that Harry was supposed to have 'with as little to do with magic' as possible. Except now with the Greengrasses, and this very important 'betrothal' thing, which Harry's father had apparently arranged, that was clearly looking a bit complicated.

After being asked so many questions by his aunt and uncle about the previous night, actually hearing a different version of how he had arrived in Privet Drive from 'Your parents were killed in a car crash, and a policeman dropped you off' had been the last thing he had been expecting and it was a bit much for Harry to take in – especially since this version with his having been simply left there in the middle of the night with only a letter to explain things (and that not very well) sounded a _lot_ scarier than the one he had heard before now about the car crash and Harry's having been handed over by a police officer.

Harry thought it was going to take him quite some time to properly understand everything which was going on…

* * *

There then followed a period of several days, during which whilst Harry's aunt and uncle weren't exactly _nice_ , they told him to do far fewer things than normal. It was most _strange_. And then one morning a letter arrived for him in the post at breakfast. A letter. For _Harry_.

It was written on something that didn't look like normal paper, and the actual letter had been folded up to make its own 'envelope', with Harry's name and address written in a bit wobbly handwriting on the outside, and with the stamp stuck on at a funny angle, and the whole thing sealed shut on the back with a green blob of wax pressed flat with some funny wavy lines in it.

Harry noticed his aunt flinch slightly at the sight of it. His uncle looked at Harry very closely.

"Well aren't you going to open your mail, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"What's that Harry's got?" Dudley demanded in a loud tone of voice.

"It's a letter. From some old-fashioned people." Aunt Petunia said to Dudley.

Since his trip to the Greengrasses' house, Harry had been strictly ordered not to tell Dudley anything about witches or wizards, and as far as Harry knew, his aunt and uncle had said nothing, either.

"Old-fashioned is silly." Dudley loudly opined, in between mouthfuls of cereal.

Fumbling slightly, Harry managed to break the blob of wax and to unfold the letter. He read it very slowly and carefully.

"Well?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"It's from Daphne." Harry said. "She says thank-you for the coloured pencils and some other stuff, using words I don't know."

"Let me see." Uncle Vernon held out his hand, making it clear that this was an order, not a request, and Harry handed the letter over.

Uncle Vernon looked it over then held it up to his face, and _sniffed_ , slightly, and then peered closely at the wavy-lines ink design which had been stamped in the top right corner of the letter. Then he read it through again, and passed it to Aunt Petunia.

"That's real, high-quality, parchment, pet." Uncle Vernon said to Aunt Petunia. "And that must be some sort of coat of arms in the corner. They may be a bit 'odd', but clearly these people are rich and important."

"Someone has at least trained the girl how to write a letter _properly_." Aunt Petunia said, tight-lipped, and inspecting the letter for herself. "And she's what – seven? I suppose it would be _possible_ to make allowances for _some_ 'oddities'."

And from that morning on, Harry's life noticeably changed.

It wasn't just the having been moved into a bedroom of his own thing. His aunt and uncle told Dudley 'not to make so much fun of Harry', and they were (usually) much politer to Harry, although still practically never _nice_. As if to make up for this, though, his aunt and uncle expected Harry to 'behave properly at all times'. This meant a variety of things, ranging from the relatively easy (sitting up straight, always, at all mealtimes, and _never_ allowing his elbows to touch the table) to the more difficult (always looking tidy when he was going out, and a general ban on his doing _anything_ muddy apart from looking after flowers in the garden) and the fiendishly complicated (such as learning what all the cutlery was supposed to be used for if he ever got invited to some sort of very-posh-restaurant or important meal at someone else's house).

Harry's aunt and uncle didn't seem to mind so much about whether Dudley ever 'behaved properly', but they were fanatical about it when they came to Harry – Aunt Petunia especially so.

And some of the things Aunt Petunia said were really strange. She told Harry on one occasion that he must never carry frogspawn around in his pockets – not that Harry had ever thought of doing so (or even knew, at that point, what 'frogspawn' actually was).

* * *

In December, a couple of Saturdays before Christmas, Harry and the Dursleys went into London. In the morning, they went around some big shops, and they lost Dudley in the toy-section of Harrods for ten minutes, which actually got Aunt Petunia (who seemed to be worrying about something) slightly cross at Dudley, which was unusual. They paused in the 'confections' section of one store, and Harry had to pick some sweets to send to Daphne for Christmas.

They had lunch in one of the big shops' tea-rooms.

Then, in the afternoon, they started to walk along the Charing Cross Road. They were supposed to be looking for a pub called 'The Burbling Basilisk', but if it existed, they never got around to spending enough time looking to find it. Aunt Petunia was just saying how much everything seemed to have changed, when she stopped dead, and went very pale, staring at a café which looked a bit old and grotty.

Then she went a bit wobbly at the knees, and Uncle Vernon had to get her inside the café to sit down, and they had a pot of tea whilst she recovered.

Apparently, she'd used to come in here with her parents, years and years ago, to sit and wait around whilst her sister 'did stuff somewhere in this area', and seeing it had brought back all sorts of memories and upset Aunt Petunia.

It was clear that Aunt Petunia wasn't in any state for them to carry on looking for the pub, so after she was feeling well enough to get back on her feet, they went back home.

It was only during the journey back to Little Whinging that Harry realised that, unless Aunt Petunia had had some relative whom she hadn't _ever_ talked about before, the 'sister' (whom she'd not once named, whilst speaking in that café) must have been his own mother.

Harry wondered what must have happened to his mother and Aunt Petunia's parents, who (except in a few old photos, around Privet Drive) he'd never seen? They must have gone away somewhere or died years ago, Harry concluded. Given how upset Aunt Petunia still was at the moment, Harry decided that it probably wasn't a very good idea to ask her about what had happened to them right now.

* * *

Author Notes:

I've assumed that as far as this universe goes, Harry has some very basic reading skills at the age of six and a quarter, so is able to recognise some of the 'easier' words in Daphne's 'thank you letter'.

Harry's aunt and uncle – mostly at Petunia's insistence – are trying to keep Dudley in the dark about magic for as long as possible. Petunia is hoping against hope that Dudley never has to find out about it.

My inspiration for Petunia's instruction to Harry about frogspawn in pockets in this chapter came from the scene in the novel of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ where Petunia includes it in the list of some of the 'outrageous' behaviour that her sister engaged in, in a rant at Hagrid.

During the afternoon of the trip to London, in December, the Dursleys and Harry are looking for the entrance to Diagon Alley. As far as Petunia's memory of what her sister rabbited on about the place goes, that entrance should be in a pub called 'The Burbling Basilisk'. Since on this occasion their search for the pub didn't last very long, before Petunia was overwhelmed by memories involving her parents, they didn't find out that either Petunia had remembered the wrong name (it must have been _at least_ half a decade since she could have heard her sister talk about anything) or that the pub has since changed its name to 'The Leaky Cauldron'.

One difference from the canon universe due to feature on the periphery of events within the next chapter or two is that in _this_ universe Albus Dumbledore installed Arabella Figg (as a 'watcher') actually _in_ Privet Drive, just across the road from number four, instead of a couple of streets away in 'Wisteria Walk'.


	3. April 22nd, 1987

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: As mentioned in the first chapter, this story originated on another website; I'm in a position to update with this installment relatively quickly (it would have been posted sooner, but I felt the need to fill out a couple of sections), since the material, at least as far as the story goes, is in essence already written. Once all the 'ready written' material is posted, updates will get somewhat haphazard in timing since I have a number of other calls upon what 'writing time' I have. As a reminder, this story assumes a version of the magical world in which 'betrothal arrangements' have some legal and social standing in the UK, as of the late twentieth century, and that in late 1979 James Potter entangled his (then unborn) son, Harry, in one (with one Daphne Greengrass). With a Wizarding War otherwise ongoing, as in canon, Voldemort nonetheless went after the Potter family, much as in canon, only to be 'defeated' by a bouncing Killing Curse due to maternal sacrificial protection on the night Hallowe'en, 1981. Some of the circumstances surrounding that attack differ from canon, but with both his parents dead, Harry, as in canon, was placed with the Dursleys, and _had_ had an experience much as in canon, up until the opening of this story in the first chapter, when during one evening in late October, 1986, a knock came upon the door of number four Privet Drive...

Further Note: This chapter is from Harry's perspective, and has skipped on several months from the previous chapter. This chapter takes place on one day during the UK school Easter holiday, 1987. (If my sources are correct, 22nd April was the Wednesday immediately after Easter Sunday, 1987, for those who like to keep track of these things.) This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

At Easter (1987), Harry and his uncle and his cousin went back to London. They left Aunt Petunia behind at home, and put on 'good clothes' for the trip. Dudley had had to struggle to get into his shirt, and on the drive into London complained that he was hot, and unbuttoned his collar and the next button down from it 'for air'. Harry was nowhere near as tubby as his cousin and had had no problem putting on his clothes, but he was still getting used to his new glasses. They were sort of brown framed, and the man at the optician's where they had bought them last week had said that the shape was the same as that of some really popular sunglasses being worn by someone called 'Sonny Crockett' in a TV show for adults called 'Miami Vice'. Aunt Petunia (who was the adult who had taken Harry shopping for glasses) had seemed particularly pleased about that. Mind you, these weren't sunglasses that Harry was wearing, but normal ones; Harry had been told though that if he behaved himself in the next few months, and did well at school, he might get a pair of matching sunglasses in time for his birthday.

Harry had a lot of new clothes bought for him these days, instead of being given mostly things to wear that his cousin was too old for or which had been bought new for Dudley but turned out to be too small for him. Unfortunately, clothes shopping was still just as boring as when not much of it had actually been for Harry, and the shopping bags and baskets – which Aunt Petunia often insisted that Harry carry – were heavier because they _also_ had things for Harry in them. Harry hoped that Aunt Petunia's absence meant that whatever they were doing, going into London today, it wasn't going to be for clothes shopping.

When they got into London, they parked in a station carpark, took a tube train, and were soon on a street somewhere or other.

"Right boys, we're looking for a funny pub probably called 'The Burbling Basilisk'." Uncle Vernon said. He showed Harry a piece of paper which apparently had the words 'The Burbling Basilisk' on, but then gave the piece of paper to Dudley, since Dudley wasn't as good at reading or remembering a lot of things as Harry.

Harry knew the word 'The', but wasn't sure that he could remember what the words 'Burbling' or 'Basilisk' would look like, on such a brief sight of them written down. He made himself remember that they were two long looking words beginning with the letter 'B' – and he could always try to spell a word out loud to check if he wasn't sure if it was right.

Thinking back, Harry remembered that during their visit to London before Christmas they had been looking for somewhere, but then Aunt Petunia had felt unwell and they had had to go home. He wondered if they were back to look for the same place or somewhere like it, and Aunt Petunia had stayed behind in case she got unwell again?

At any rate, she wasn't here to help Harry and Dudley and Uncle Vernon.

* * *

The three of them made their way along a busy street for a bit, looking at everything, but without seeing anything that looked like a pub or 'funny' or which had anything that looked like a name of 'The' followed by two long words beginning with 'B'.

And then Harry saw a building which looked very old-fashioned, a bit small compared to the ones either side, and with some sort of pub sign hanging above the door. Harry didn't think that the words on the sign looked like 'The Burbling Basilisk' though.

Still, it was worth a comment. Maybe Uncle Vernon knew what they were looking for looked like.

"Is where we're looking for supposed to look like that?" Harry stopped and pointed.

"What do you mean, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked, also stopping and bringing Dudley to a halt. Uncle Vernon stared at where Harry was pointing, without seeming to see anything peculiar.

"That pub, there?" Harry asked. He had an odd feeling that the building looked a bit _wavery_ , as if it was trying to hide, and that he might not have seen it if he hadn't been looking very carefully at all the buildings on the street. He'd actually wondered for a moment when he first saw it if he was having some sort of problem with his new glasses?

Uncle Vernon looked left and right and then back at where Harry was pointing.

"There isn't a pub there. There's just a wall." Uncle Vernon frowned. "Tell me: is this pub you can see called 'The Burbling Basilisk?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. The letters don't look right." Harry said. "There's a 'The', but then two words I don't know, and I don't think one of them's long enough. And they start with the wrong letters."

"Is Harry playing some sort of game with us?" Dudley demanded, staring hard at where Harry was pointing.

"He'd best not be." Uncle Vernon said. Then to Harry: "Spell the words you don't know out, boy."

"After 'The' L-E-A-K-Y." Harry said. "That's the first new word. Then C-A-U-L-D-R-O-N. Is it right Uncle Vernon? Is it supposed to be that?"

"Hmmm." Uncle Vernon stared at the pub which he apparently couldn't see. "'Leaky Cauldron' sounds like it _might_ be at least the right sort of place to start. There's a door into this place, which you can see?"

"Yes, Uncle." Harry said.

"Right: well you're to go in and then come straight… No, that won't do. You take me by the hand, and I'll take Dudley by the hand, and you lead us into this place. But be ready to get us out again, if I say the word, or come straight out, if you go in but leave us behind somehow…"

"Okay." Harry said.

"Why's he pulling us towards a wall, dad?" Dudley asked.

"He's not. There's something funny going on. Like in Doctor Who." Uncle Vernon said. "Just close your eyes, Dudley, and don't worry, until I say to open them."

And then they were in the pub.

* * *

Apparently, once they were inside, Uncle Vernon and Dudley had no problem seeing the pub. Things stopped looking 'wavery' to Harry, too.

Inside it looked a bit grotty, though, Harry thought, and the people who had been here already all looked a bit strange. Their clothes were odd, and most of the people seemed a bit sad or a bit tired. A couple of men were talking to one another, whilst all the other people simply sipped drinks or stared into space.

Uncle Vernon glanced around the room once, and then he pulled Harry and Dudley firmly with him by the hand, up to the bar. Here he stopped and dropped Harry's hand to pull several pieces of paper covered with writing out of a pocket, which he looked through carefully.

The entry of Harry and his cousin and Uncle had attracted some brief attention, but someone snorted and muttered something about 'blinking uglyborns traipsing in younger than ever' (or something which sounded like that) and the men and women (apart from the man behind the bar) lost interest.

"Excuse me please." Uncle Vernon said, at his politest, to the man behind the bar – who looked really old and bald and who had a crinkled face. "We're looking for a pub, probably called 'The Burbling Basilisk', which has an entrance," he squinted at his piece of paper, "to a place called Diagon Alley."

"Well this is The Leaky Cauldron, but the entrance to Diagon Alley is out the back, here." the man behind the bar said. He looked over Uncle Vernon and Harry and Dudley. "Muggle-born or half-blood children on a first visit, right?"

"Something like that." Uncle Vernon replied. "Boy's mother knows the place but can't make it here today."

"Well, you need someone with a wand to get you into the Alley, as you should know." the barman said. "Which I could do for you…"

"If you would, please, sir?" Uncle Vernon said.

It sounded odd to Harry, Uncle Vernon calling someone who looked like the barman, _sir_. Uncle Vernon sounded genuinely respectful, too.

His uncle obviously really wanted this man's help.

"Wands? What's going on here, dad?" Dudley asked.

"Quiet Dudley. You should see more, in a minute or two." Uncle Vernon said.

* * *

Harry and Dudley were in a bank.

It wasn't like any bank which Harry had seen before. It was a building with huge spaces, and polished stone floors and columns, and run by strange creatures about Harry's height dressed in scarlet and gold uniforms and who had long fingers and sharp eyes. Apparently these creatures were goblins.

There were more of the oddly dressed humans around in the bank too, although the clothes of many looked a lot _better_ than those of the people back in the Leaky Cauldron, where the barman had a short while earlier shown Harry, his cousin, and his uncle out around the back and done something with a long stick to a wall, which had caused a secret doorway to open up to 'Diagon Alley'.

Diagon Alley was a long, old-fashioned looking street, filled with more oddly dressed people, and absolutely crazy shops, and dominated, once you got close to it, by the goblin-run bank of Gringotts.

Uncle Vernon had been quite firm on going to the bank first.

"They have different money here, and you can tell a lot about a culture and society by its bankers and financial systems." he'd said.

Uncle Vernon had said that in a manner which suggested he had been trying to teach Dudley an important lesson. Harry hadn't had any idea what his uncle had been going on about, and by the bewildered look on Dudley's face, he suspected that his cousin hadn't had any, either.

Uncle Vernon currently had a notebook and biro out and was talking to one of the goblins, whilst writing lots of notes. (The goblin in question was one of the bank-workers, who was seated on a high stool behind one of the counters.) Uncle Vernon had got a pocket calculator out at one point, but it seemed to have broken down, and he'd had to do several sums the hard way, by writing them down, whilst the goblin he was talking to looked politely puzzled, and then, bit by bit, something else.

Harry's uncle was talking business, of some sort, Harry thought. Uncle Vernon had even produced one of those cards, with his name and the company he worked for typed on, at one point, and handed it across to the goblin whom he was talking to, to the goblin's momentary surprise.

"Do you think… do you think that they _eat_ people?" Dudley asked Harry, as a goblin headed past.

Harry's cousin seemed a bit scared and a bit _awed_ by the goblins.

Harry considered the question, but couldn't make his mind up, one way or another.

"I don't know. Do bankers normally eat people?" he said back to his cousin.

"Dad says that some of them go around drinking blood." Dudley said wildly. "But that others are very good to know. Do you think… do you think…" he lowered his voice and glanced around fearfully, "their uniforms are those colours to hide the bloodstains?"

"Dried blood goes brown, Dudley." Harry said, having had slightly too many opportunities for his own liking before the end of last October to have become absolutely certain on this point. He screwed up his face. "And I don't think that monsters that eat people are supposed to live in places like _this_." he waved his arms around.

"Oh, right. Well I suppose you'd know." Dudley said, having now _finally_ been acquainted with the fact that witches and wizards existed. "Because your parents were from places like this."

Harry wondered how the fact that his parents were 'from places like this' meant that he was supposed to know all about things like whether goblins ate people? But it apparently made sense to Dudley and it was _nice_ to see Dudley actually treating him as something more than an inconvenience and unnecessary distraction from Dudley getting as much time and attention from everyone else as possible.

Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon's long conversation with the goblin seemed to be finally winding down, Uncle Vernon handed over a wad of banknotes, which the goblin inspected, and very carefully counted, and the goblin then produced several fists of metal coins from somewhere, which Uncle Vernon equally carefully counted and then dropped into one of his pockets.

"One last thing." Uncle Vernon said to the goblin. "The boy's parents" he gestured at Harry, "were from 'these parts'. Both now dead. I don't suppose you'd happen to know if they had anything here at Gringotts?"

"Their names?" the goblin enquired.

"James and Lily Potter." Uncle Vernon responded.

The goblin snapped his fingers and summoned another goblin. The two goblins held a briefly whispered conversation, then the just-summoned goblin headed off.

"It will take the clerks a few minutes to check the records for any strong-boxes or vaults held by witches or wizards under either or both those names." the goblin said.

"Splendid." Uncle Vernon said.

For some reason, he looked pleased by this development.

Uncle Vernon looked even more pleased when the other goblin came back, several minutes later, and – after another low whispered conversation between the two goblins – the one he had been talking to looked up to announce: "The only vault we have here belonging recently to a James or Lily Potter is that in theory waiting for their son, Harry James Potter. All enquiries relating it should be directed to the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore, who is looking after the vault key for their son. Do not bother him, Mr. Dursley, if that boy is _not_ Harry Potter. It is rumoured that the Chief Warlock transfigures treasure-thieves and time-wasters into small obsidian ornaments and keeps them in his office at Hogwarts."

This news caused Uncle Vernon to positively _beam_ with pleasure for some reason.

He took a final note, then put notebook and biro away.

"It is a pleasure to do business with a goblin as astute as you." Uncle Vernon said, then turned away to collect Harry and Dudley. "Come along boys. I saw what looked like an ice-cream shop earlier, and it must be elevenses time by now."

And under his breath, Harry heard his uncle muttering to himself, as they left the bank: "Hah! I _knew_ it. I _knew_ there was more to this than met the eye…"

* * *

After a visit to the ice-cream shop, they went shopping – or rather, Uncle Vernon went shopping and Harry and Dudley trailed along behind him.

Uncle Vernon had a shopping-list of things to pick up, with some of his newly acquired coins. He ignored shops selling things like cauldrons, or broomsticks, or magic wands, and instead called in at shops which sold parchment and ink or shops which sold books.

Uncle Vernon wasn't even interested in books of spells, but instead wanted history books, and books about families and books about etiquette, with the odd book on calligraphy thrown in.

Harry wasn't sure what calligraphy was, until he peeked inside one of the books on it which Uncle Vernon spent several minutes negotiating for (apparently in shops in Diagon Alley you could _haggle_ about prices, which Uncle Vernon seemed to enjoy, tremendously) and discovered that it appeared to be about how to make your writing look fancy. Harry had a nasty suspicion that at least one of these books about calligraphy was going to be pushed in his direction within the next few days, as part of his learning all about 'good manners'.

They also went into a shop which sold various animals, where Uncle Vernon bought a small brown owl. Dudley got to carry the owl, in its cage, of course, whilst Harry was disappearing beneath the pile of other parcels and packages which Uncle Vernon was acquiring.

Finally, they popped into a joke shop.

This latter was apparently for Dudley's benefit, and after much hmm'ing, and hah'ing, Uncle Vernon allowed Dudley to select a packet of 'pop-up spiders' to use at school.

"You must absolutely _not_ let your mother know that we have bought these." Uncle Vernon told Dudley, as the man behind the counter dropped them into a brown paper bag. "She does not want _any_ magic except where absolutely unavoidable, around the house. We will _all_ get in trouble if she finds out about these."

After that, with only a slight bit of bother extracting themselves from Diagon Alley, to get back into The Leaky Cauldron, they headed home.

During the drive back to Little Whinging, with Uncle Vernon humming to himself behind the steering wheel and apparently in a very good mood, Dudley announced that the owl was going to be called 'Penfold' because 'he looks a bit dopey, like Penfold'.

* * *

Author Notes:

Post-book interviews have apparently described The Leaky Cauldron as looking like a 'broken-down shop' to normal people. However, such a sight on the Charing Cross Road in between two prosperous businesses seems unlikely to me to generate the 'eyes sliding over it' effect described in the book of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ , so instead I've taken the slight liberty of The Leaky Cauldron frontage looking to normal people (if they notice it at all) as a continuous section of blank wall.

Nobody says 'that's Harry Potter!' (or words to that effect) in this universe during Harry's visit to Diagon Alley in this chapter. Only the one independent identification (at The Leaky Cauldron) is indicated in _Philosopher's Stone_ to have taken place during canon Harry's first trip 'back to the magical world' on his eleventh birthday, and unlike on that occasion, Harry in this chapter and universe lacks possible identifying features such as looks-like-his-father glasses and being present with Rubeus Hagrid (to my mind, a blatant 'bodyguard', if ever there was one, and just how many boys apart from Harry Potter would need one of those?). Harry's scar (if that is actually sufficient to serve as a means of visual identification from a distance) is assumed to be concealed partially or completely by Harry's hairline.

Readers may assume that Vernon gives Dudley a 'magic is real, but this is absolutely _secret_ ' talk in between The Leaky Cauldron and Gringotts; I didn't script anything other than very oblique references to it having taken place when I initially posted 'Harry Potter and the Greengrass Connection' on the other website, because I wanted to move the action from The Leaky Cauldron straight to Gringotts. Rather than hold posting this chapter up any more than it's already been done, I haven't added one here.

Given that eleven year old Harry is described in _Philosopher's Stone_ as being about 'a head taller' than the Gringotts goblins, I've guesstimated from some height-charts that six-and-three-quarter year old Harry is probably about the same height as the goblins.

As I understand it, 'high levels of magic' in an environment can cause the breakdown of electronic devices; Uncle Vernon's pocket calculator is assumed to have been so overwhelmed by the time that Harry, Dudley and Uncle Vernon arrive in Gringotts.

Dudley's comment/fear regarding some bankers drinking blood comes of having overheard his father on occasions describe such people as 'bloodsuckers', and Dudley having taken it literally. Dudley's attitude to Harry is incidentally very much changed by this trip to Diagon Alley, because suddenly Harry is _interesting_ , and Dudley likes having the attention (and approval) of interesting people.

For the record, I'm assuming that Gringotts keeps money and possessions in vaults _safe_ for witches and wizards, but does not pay witches and wizards any kind of 'interest' for the privilege of the goblins keeping their money and possessions safe. The goblins do, however, often charge small 'storage' fees (payable in advance) for the use of a vault.

By the end of the visit to Gringotts Uncle Vernon is quite certain from the way that the goblins reacted to his last enquiry that his nephew, Harry, has a lot of money in storage at Gringotts (left there by Harry's parents), and that it will be coming Harry's way some day...

I'm not sure if anything like them is mentioned in canon, but 'popup spiders' are assumed to be paper spiders which are inserted between pages of a book or under an item. When the book is opened or the item raised, they turn into real spiders and scuttle off.

The 'Penfold' after whom Dudley names the owl is a character (actually a hamster, but Dudley clearly thinks the owl's expression is the same) from the 1980's cartoon series _Danger Mouse_.

Finally, although not indicated in this chapter, Mrs. Figg happens to spot Harry, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon returning to Privet Drive complete with _owl_ 'in tow' – wherefore the next update will see one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore making a rather urgent visit to Privet Drive, for a chapter from Vernon Dursley's perspective.


	4. April 22nd, 1987 (Vernon Dursley)

(minor rewording for hopefully better flow of text in some parts of this chapter, 21st February, 2016)

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: As mentioned in the first chapter, this story originated on another website; I've been able to update with this installment relatively quickly (as with the previous chapter, some delay occurred to expand the text in places), since the material, at least as far as the story goes, was in essence already written. However, once all the 'ready written' material is posted (estimated at the initial time of this post to be two further installments' worth after this one, one of them very short), updates will get somewhat haphazard in timing since I have a number of other calls upon what 'writing time' I have. As a reminder, this story assumes a version of the magical world in which 'betrothal arrangements' have some legal and social standing in the UK, as of the late twentieth century, and that one night in late 1979 James Potter entangled his (then unborn) son, Harry, in one (with one Daphne Greengrass). With a Wizarding War otherwise ongoing, as in canon, Voldemort nonetheless went after the Potter family, much as in canon, only to be 'defeated' by a bouncing Killing Curse due to maternal sacrificial protection on the night Hallowe'en, 1981. Although some of the circumstances surrounding that attack differed from canon, with both his parents dead, Harry, as in canon, was nevertheless placed with the Dursleys, and _had_ had an experience much as in canon, up until the opening of this story in the first chapter, when a knock came one evening in October, 1986, upon the door of number four Privet Drive. (Meanwhile, some characters in wizarding Britain, were having very different experiences from those of their canon counterparts, in the wake of Lord Voldemort's fateful attack on the Potters...)

Further Note: This chapter is from Vernon Dursley's perspective and, following on several hours after the end of the previous chapter, takes place on the evening of 22nd April, 1987, at number 4 Privet Drive. This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

"I must say, you seem to have some particularly fine rose bushes in your front garden." the bizarrely dressed wizard who had unexpectedly turned up on the doorstep five minutes earlier at eight p.m. broke the silence that had followed the departure of Petunia 'to go and get the boys ready for bed'.

Underneath a brown steeple hat and a travelling cloak that for some reason failed to draw glances from any passers-by, the caller was dressed in orange, yellow, and pink robes, which were to some extent reminiscent of the shades of an evening's sunset. He had a long white beard, a moustache to go with it, and a pair of half-moon glasses perched on the end of his nose. He had introduced himself to Petunia and Vernon as 'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore', and gained himself an exceptionally hostile response, in the doing so, from Petunia.

Then the boys had turned up, curious as to what was going on on the doorstep. Petunia had allowed the boys and the caller no more than a couple of moments to stare at one another before she had turned and hustled the boys away with an unquestionable command of 'bedtime!', leaving Vernon to handle the interloper.

From the careful remark that he had just made to Vernon about gardening, it was apparent that the caller was interested in having a conversation, in despite of Petunia's reaction to him.

"Yes, well, it's a team effort." Vernon said, a bit relieved that the awkward silence had been broken. "I had been intending to write to you, so in one sense it's quite fortunate you turning up like this." Another hesitation, whilst the two men, either side of the doorstep, listened to the sounds emerging from further into the house, then: "Well, now they're upstairs and out of the way, would you like to come in?"

* * *

"What would you like?" Vernon asked, busying himself at the drinks cabinet, whilst the wizard settled himself into an armchair and let his curious gaze wander around the room.

Never mind the unexpected caller's likely supernatural powers – from what Vernon had heard about him at Gringotts today, and from Petunia, before, Albus Dumbledore was some sort of highly important bigwig, and it was thus probably prudent for Vernon Dursley to make at least _some_ show of social accommodation on a first meeting such as this.

Thus drinks – alcoholic – in the sitting room.

"Mead if you have any. Otherwise anything sweet would be acceptable." the wizard replied.

"Hmm. I think we have some cassis somewhere." Vernon said, rummaging through various bottles.

"Ah. A rarified version of blackcurrant cordial. I must confess that I have heard of it, but never actually tried any. That will be quite acceptable." the wizard said.

Vernon poured out a small port-glass of cassis for his guest, for himself a tumbler of whisky, and turned around to find that the wizard was looking with an expression of mild curiosity at one of the family photographs ranged around the sitting room. It was one of the few photographs to feature Harry and had been taken at Christmas, with Harry having a slightly bemused expression on his face at his being included in the festivities this time around, in the midst of unwrapping whatever it was that the Greengrasses had sent at the last minute by special delivery.

"Ah, thank-you." the wizard took his eyes from the photo to accept the glass from Vernon.

Vernon collected his own tumbler and settled himself into a chair, which he then moved slightly to more conveniently face the wizard.

The wizard sipped from the glass cautiously and frowned:

"Interesting. Perhaps I should procure a bottle for a wizard I have the pleasure to work with who goes by the name of Horace." he said. "I believe he would enjoy it, quite considerably. But anyway, you had something which you wished to discuss with me, Mr. Dursley?"

"You first." Vernon said. "Clearly you must have something you consider important on your own mind, to come to visit like this out of the blue."

"Ah, well: It has come to my attention that earlier today you acquired an owl from Diagon Alley, whilst in the company of two boys." the wizard's piercing blue eyes turned on Vernon, his expression inscrutable.

"And so?" Vernon returned. "Witches and wizards get owls all the time I gather, and the man in the shop said that you didn't need any kind of special licence to own or buy one. I checked that most thoroughly at the time. If there _was_ supposed to be some piece of paperwork involved, or close family members of witches and wizards _aren't_ allowed to own owls and the man in the shop neglected to mention _that_ , then I was sold it under false pretences…"

"No Mr. Dursley. There is no kind of legal difficulty with the purchase of the owl." Albus Dumbledore said. "The problem is that you were in Diagon Alley in the first place – with Harry Potter."

Vernon blinked.

"You'll have to expand on that a bit, I'm afraid." he said. "It's a bit tricky to get into the place without someone a bit unusual around, and I'd be a total idiot to send a six year old in with a list of things to do but otherwise completely on his own."

"I left Harry Potter on your doorstep five and a bit years ago, Mr. Dursley, because I wanted him to be _safe_. I wanted him raised well away from the magical world, and the people in it, some of the latter of whom might be thought to hold grudges and to have long memories regarding Harry. One of the last things that I wanted to hear was that young Mr. Potter had been gallivanting around Diagon Alley, in the company of two muggles, even if one of said muggles, Mr. Dursley, was yourself. Fortunately, the only identification of Mr. Potter I have heard of thus far was one made after-the-event by a contact of mine, who kept their mouth shut, other than to promptly notify me. You all arrived back here safely – but the Wizarding World is _not_ a safe place for Mr. Potter to be in public, right now."

"I see." Vernon said. "You could have mentioned it in that letter which you left with the boy, back in eighty-one. _Here is your dear nephew who has been suddenly orphaned by an attack by a dark and evil wizard. Take him in, bring him up, and by the way, don't let him anywhere near the 'magical world'._ That last bit would have been definitely useful if that was what you actually wanted."

"I must confess that at the time, I thought it something quite unnecessary to add. I did not believe that you would turn out to be quite so informed on some of the ins and outs of our world, nor would show such initiative so soon before Harry became due to attend his parents' school."

"Right." said Vernon after a pause during which both men sipped their respective drinks. "Well, since you've made that clear _now_ , it will be quite tricky to get my nephew into a 'proper' boarding school with only a few years' notice, but I should be able to pull some strings and get him into Smeltings with his cousin. Obviously, this 'Hogwash' place his parents went to will be quite out of the question…"

"Hogwarts." Albus Dumbledore interrupted. "And it is quite out of the question that Harry will _not_ attend it. His parents both did, they made arrangements for him to have a place, they paid for his school fees…"

"No, no, no." Vernon took a turn at interrupting. "From what you've said, it is quite out of the question that my nephew attend Hogwarts. You can refund to him whatever of the fees you feel it legally and ethically necessary to refund, but you have clearly stated that it is _not_ safe for my nephew to be 'out' anywhere 'public' in what you call 'the magical world', and to my mind 'public' and 'magical world' includes the 'Hogwarts' boarding school. My wife heard things from her sister about Hogwarts: endlessly ongoing feuds and fighting in the corridors between rival gangs or groups of students for weeks on end; violent contact sports that involve players practically trying to kill one another with flying metal balls; and every year at least one teacher sacked, seriously injured, or outright killed. If Diagon Alley is too hazardous for my nephew, then Hogwarts is nothing short of a death-trap, with opportunities aplenty for those who don't like him to settle grudges or outright try to arrange his demise."

The two men stared at one another.

"Let me be quite clear, Mr. Dursley. Harry will have to _some day_ face up to his various enemies – he will not be able to stay safe and hidden forever – and at Hogwarts, he will have the opportunity to learn whilst being protected more-than-adequately by the staff."

"And let me be clear: You sent him away from what you call the 'magical world' apparently in the belief that it _was possible_ for him to be hidden indefinitely from his enemies, by staying with us – so he quite obviously doesn't have to ever face anyone if he doesn't want to, or not unless there's something important that you're not telling me?"

The staring match continued, and after half a minute, the wizard broke off.

"Perhaps I have overstated the dangers, waiting for Harry, Mr. Dursley. If you wish to make an excursion to Diagon Alley in the future, please write to let me know, and I shall arrange in advance a bodyguard or protection detail of some sort, to ensure safety from what perils might otherwise present themselves. You not unjustly place the emphasis, given some of the things which I have said, on me to demonstrate that Harry _can_ be kept safe in public, although I would be pleased if you would keep such visits to a minimum."

"Fair enough. Since you seem to believe that any danger is only 'public', I take it that private visits to the Greengrasses do not require armed wizards trailing along five paces behind?"

"All wizards are by definition armed, Mr. Dursley, but… the Greengrasses? I… Ah. Of course: that would be the betrothal arrangement with their eldest daughter? James mentioned something about one once or twice; I must confess that initially I had doubts about it, and indeed hoped that the Greengrasses would forget about it, or find some mutually profitable 'out' from it, but these days it seems less and less something about which I should be concerning myself. Since I have heard nothing of late of especial note regarding the family, but you clearly have at least a passing familiarity with the arrangement's existence, I take it that you and they have already been in discreet contact. So long as the Greengrasses remain discreet in any actions which place Harry in the Wizarding World, any interactions which involve them would to my mind be 'safe' for Harry. Was that, by any chance, what you wished to seek my opinion on?"

"No. It never crossed my mind that they wouldn't be 'safe', since they returned him intact, back in October, from Daphne's birthday celebration. What I _did_ want to inquire with you about was that the goblins in Gringotts today said something about you having the key to a vault that belongs to my nephew, and it seems to me that he ought to have it as soon as possible. What's in his vault is not doing him any good sitting where it is. The goblins are very good at keeping valuable property _safe_ , but their bank doesn't operate any kind of interest-for-long-term-customers policy, and indeed they actually charge a peppercorn rent for vault maintenance. Whenever whatever rent the boy's parents may have paid in advance runs out, he'll be _losing_ money, if anything, if it's sitting there doing nothing."

"Nevertheless, I am afraid, Mr. Dursley, that Harry's mother was very much a prudent woman, and she would disapprove of her son having access to what amounts to his inheritance at so young an age. He might run wild and blow it on ill-advised things such as sweet-shops, or a broomstick manufacturing company, or a North Sea oil-rig."

"And the boy's father?" Vernon queried, ignoring the insinuation that a North Sea oil-rig might _not_ be a prudent investment and instead focussing on the weakness he sensed in the wizard's lack of reference to _him_.

"Ahh. James was considerably less careful of money, at least when it came to himself and his friends." the wizard admitted. "However, I believe that he would have stood by Lily's wishes with regard to financial prudence," and here the wizard winced, and qualified himself, "except possibly with regard to buying presents for friends."

"Right." Vernon said. "So, on that basis?..."

"If Harry wishes to buy a friend a present for Christmas, for a birthday, or for some extraordinary celebratory occasion, he may write to me, and if I consider the idea reasonable, I shall allow a withdrawal." the wizard sighed. "Otherwise, I will insist upon retaining the key to Harry's vault until at least his eleventh birthday, when his requirement to purchase his first wand and the various equipment, books and other accoutrements necessary to attend a magical school come due and for which he should have the freedom to spend his own money." His tone hardened. "As you may or may not have heard, Mr. Dursley, I _am_ Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and I will _not_ be seen to behave recklessly with regard to the finances of a minor who happens to be an orphan, the heir of a very old and respected family, and also, incidentally, the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort."

"Hmmph. Wish there were more around in high office as anxious as you to be seen to be 'doing things properly'." Vernon said, figuring that for now trying to push for more on this front might be unproductive and that mollification was called for. "That seems all in good sense, and wraps up the main reason I wanted to speak with you." Time to move the topic on now, and try to finish things on a less confrontational note: "While you're here, however, I don't suppose you could take the time to give me _your_ version of what exactly happened to my nephew's parents and with this 'Voldemort' fellow? That letter you left back in '81 didn't say much about it. I've acquired a number of books today, but haven't had time yet to do more than glance at them, although your name _does_ seem to crop up quite often in events."

"Alas, in the denouement of what happened to James and Lily, my involvement was mostly peripheral." the wizard said. "And there are some things which – even half a dozen years on – I do not fully understand myself, and others which for reasons of security or to avoid confusing you with difficult technical matters of magic I shall brush over, but in general outline, I shall certainly unfold to you how I believe that things stood. By the by, Mr. Dursley: you may want to refill your glass, as some of the matters which I am about to recount are not for the hearing of the faint of heart…"

* * *

"…And that, Mr. Dursley, is how Harry came to be left upon your doorstep, one chilly November night." the wizard wound down, twenty minutes later. Albus Dumbledore had undoubtedly been holding back on a good many things, Vernon didn't doubt, but he also loved the opportunity to talk at length to an audience, especially when it came to outlining in depth by what means he had deduced or surmised particular elements of a chain of events.

And by the climax of the tale which the wizard had just told, almost all of those involved at the very heart of the business seemed to have finished up some combination of dead, mad, or permanent hospital-cases.

"It sounds nasty." Vernon had during the telling in fact experienced several fleeting moments of pity for his nephew. "And definitely not the thing to be bothering my wife or my nephew with the details of for some years, at the least. If this 'Death Eater' lot, even in a losing cause, were halfway as dangerous as you make out, I can understand your concerns about safety now, much more, and I _hope_ that Hogwarts security is at least halfway up to what you've promised. Because otherwise…"

He trailed off and shook his head.

"This talk of old events, has put me in mind of one thing, Mr. Dursley: I should like to beg a favour of you." Albus Dumbledore said, shifting his tone now from that of a lecturer to that of a supplicant. "As I had indicated, _one_ of James and Lily's friends, Remus Lupin, came out of the end of the war relatively intact, and although he has to date refrained – at my request – from having any kind of communication other than to send Christmas and birthday cards to his godson, Harry, I believe that he would appreciate a greater degree of contact. He is, as I have said, a werewolf, although as such he only 'loses himself' during nights of the full moon period, and is at no hazard of transmitting his condition or descending into madness during the hours between sunrise and sunset of any given day. And during the war, he performed many brave and invaluable acts for 'our side', to the benefit of his friends and to his own very great credit. Nonetheless, there is a good deal of paranoia and undue superstition in magical society about werewolves, and as one who has not tried to conceal from officialdom his affliction, Remus has received little reward or recognition over the years since for what he did during the war. It would mean a great deal to him, and be a great service to me, if you would be so gracious as to allow him access to Harry."

Vernon suspected that Albus might be exaggerating the 'brave and loyal soldier, unjustly spurned by the society he served' bit, but the appeal was very well made, _and_ the notion of Albus Dumbledore owing the Dursleys a favour (although anything involving a certain Gringotts vault key would probably not be covered) had its attractions…

"I'll have to consult with Petunia about it, but if he wants to, she'll probably allow Mr. Lupin to write, as long as the letters stay on subjects relatively 'magic free'. And non-magical Christmas and birthday presents, if he wants to send any, would probably be acceptable."

"Thank you, Mr. Dursley. Remus will be truly touched by this gesture, should your good lady approve of it." Albus said, with every sign of sincerity.

* * *

It was dark outside by the time that Albus Dumbledore departed from number four, Privet Drive.

"By the by, Mr Dursley:" Albus nodded at the lights of the residence, across the street, of the slightly dotty 'cat lady', Mrs. Figg. "She is no witch, but your neighbour of across the road is a lady of my slight acquaintance, and should you have urgent need to contact me by a means more immediate than an owl, she should be able to assist. And with that I shall bid you adieu…"

Vernon stared after the departing wizard, and then at his neighbour's house, doing mental arithmetic, that included what he could remember of for how long Mrs. Figg had been a 'neighbour'.

She must have been around since about the time that Harry had arrived in the Dursley household – which was interesting in terms of what it told Vernon about a number of things which Albus Dumbledore had not _outright_ said.

* * *

Author Notes:

As indicated in the Author Notes of previous chapters, in this universe Mrs. Figg lives in Privet Drive, and noticed the return, earlier in the day, of Harry, Vernon, and Dudley, with an owl and various other bags and parcels. It looked to here to be clearly an owl of the sort used to send messages in the magical world, so she immediately got in touch with Albus Dumbledore about this, since it clearly indicated contact with witches/wizards. (Back in October the previous year, Mrs. Figg missed spotting Mr. Greengrass' taking/bringing back Harry for Daphne's birthday, and all communication between 4 Privet Drive and St. George's Hill since then has occurred by means of Royal Mail, so this was the first 'contact with witches/wizards' she'd had to report.) Albus (given that Mrs. Figg reported that they'd clearly been out for the day by car) deduced that they had most likely shopped at Diagon Alley in London, and rushed down there to check if there had been any trouble or whether there were any reports circulating of 'sightings' of Harry Potter. He identified several shops at which they had called but at none of which Harry had been recognised, trusted to goblin discretion at Gringotts, if Harry had been identified there, and much relieved, headed up to Privet Drive to give Vernon and Petunia a 'what ever were you thinking of?' ticking off...

During the initial pleasantries on the doorstep of number four, Albus Dumbledore is assumed to have said sufficient things to 'prove' that he actually is Albus Dumbledore (possibly including mentioning that Petunia had written to him when she was a girl).

Albus' reference to a wizard named 'Horace' is to Horace Slughorn, who at the date (in-universe) of this chapter is Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts.

Over the years, Albus is assumed to have carried out some basic research on Vernon and his work. I imagine that with Grunnings being a 'drill' firm in the UK in the 1980's amongst their activities/products might be supplies to North Sea oil-rigs - hence the 'dig' that Albus takes at Vernon about North Sea oil-rigs at one point. (Vernon of course got an earlier sneaky dig of his own in by referring to Hogwarts as 'Hogwash'.)

I am aware that post-canon J.K. Rowling has said something to the effect that Hogwarts does not charge fees, but that the school is paid for by the Ministry. I just don't see the canon Ministry of Magic as being sufficiently well resourced to do this, and am taking a line that fees are charged except maybe for poorly off muggle-borns (which would explain some magical families 'home-schooling', and be one further reason for pure-bloods/half-bloods to resent muggle-borns). It's an artistic liberty on my part, and not intended (at the time of writing of these notes, in February, 2016) to be plot-critical.

As noted in the previous chapter, Gringotts is assumed in this universe not to pay 'interest' for money stored with them. They do however often charge a small 'storage' fee.

Vernon Dursley, as of this chapter, is blithely unaware that engaging in a staring contest with a legilimency-capable wizard is not the most prudent of options. In this chapter, Albus kept any legilimency light, and restricted to solely a search for any surface memories about the visit earlier in the day to Diagon Alley, which was his most immediate concern.

Albus isn't stupid. From evidence such as Harry only appearing in recent family photos, he devises a theory, very rapidly, that there has been some change of circumstances in how the Dursleys view/interact with Harry. Once the Greengrasses are mentioned he makes an 'informed guess' that for some reason the betrothal arrangement (which must have been mentioned once or twice around the Order of the Phoenix, during the war) is in some way connected to the change in attitude of the Dursleys.

Remus Lupin, not Sirius Black, is Harry's godfather in this universe. As indicated in the chapter one notes, Lily insisted rather firmly on Sirius not being allowed anywhere near 'godfather' duties, due to Sirius' part, as she viewed it, in James getting Harry into a betrothment. When Albus left Harry with the Dursleys, back in November 1981, he _was_ aware from gossip around the Order of the Phoenix that Petunia hadn't got on terribly well with the close friends of Lily's husband, so he specifically asked Remus to refrain from contacting the Dursleys/Harry. Remus only agreed on condition that Albus do his best to keep his eye on Harry, to see that everything was alright, to which Albus assented - hence Mrs. Figg actually being in Privet Drive in this universe, rather than a couple of streets away, as in canon.

Next update will be very brief, consisting of some Remus/Harry correspondence; after that should come a longer installment regarding Dudley's (1987) birthday celebrations.

And as a teaser, regarding the casualty list for late October/early November, 1981:

Lily & James Potter - dead

Lord Voldemort - 'dead' (or at least believed dead, by most; in fact, skulking somewhere or other, in spirit form, as in canon)

Peter Pettigrew - dead

Sirius Black - long-term coma case, St. Mungo's, to the delight of his family

Alice Longbottom - long-term cruciatus curse damage case, St. Mungo's, to the distress of her family

Severus Snape - dead, but that hasn't stopped his ghost being landed with a teaching job, anyway; head of house duties assumed to be beyond him, however


	5. April 27th - May 19th, 1987 (Letters)

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: For those who've been waiting for the initial posting of this chapter, my apologies for the delay in the delivery of such a short installment; much of it was already written, but unfortunately my health has not been good of late. For the same reason, there may be further delays in cross-posting the last full chapter of the existing pre-written material. As a reminder, this story is taking place in an alternate universe, where James Potter betrothed Harry to Daphne Greengrass, and where (amongst other divergences from canon) Remus Lupin is Harry's godfather.

Further Note: This chapter consists of a couple of exchanges letters (by owl) between Harry Potter and his godfather, Remus Lupin, taking place in April and May, 1987. This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

(Letter dated: Monday, 27th April, 1987)

 _Dear Mr. Lupin,_

 _My aunt doesn't like you very much, because of something you did years and years ago, but she says I should write to you to ask you for your help on a matter of good manners. Is it good manners to invite a seven year old girl who is a Greengrass for a ride on a steam train for my birthday? My aunt has some books on 'etiquette' and has read them and read them but she cannot decide whether it is good manners or not._

 _Yours Faithfully,_

 _Harry Potter._

* * *

(Letter dated: Friday, 8th May, 1987)

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Thank you very much for your letter, and may I congratulate you on your quillmanship. You have a remarkably good hand for a boy of your age._

 _You ask a very unusual question, made more so by the fact that you seem to me to refer in it to Daphne Greengrass to whom – whether you are aware of it or not – you are in fact, by arrangement between her father and yours, betrothed. As far as I can determine, since you are the age that you are, you are fully entitled to invite her to anything taking place on your birthday, and whatever you chose would_ _only_ _be bad manners for you doing it if she or her family were obliged to pay anything for it. In fact it would be bad manners on their part for Daphne to decline for any reasons other than those of ill health or a serious family crisis._

 _(Note, however, that it might well look like bad manners on your part, and may have financial implications, in terms of loss of future prospective dowry, for you_ _NOT_ _to invite her to join you in any kind of activity. You may not understand what this means, but one or the other of your guardians should, and be able to explain it to you, if you require.)_

 _I regret that your aunt still recalls me with such disfavour, although I do not blame her for it._

 _Hoping that this letter, in despite of its source, assists you and your aunt._

 _Yours Truly,_

 _Remus Lupin._

* * *

(Letter dated: Tuesday 12th May, 1987)

 _Dear Mr. Lupin,_

 _Thank you for your letter. My aunt makes me practise my writing every night, and my uncle helps me with spelling when I write a letter. He is trying to teach me how to use a dictionary, but it is a hard thing to learn._

 _My uncle is sorry to bother you, but he wants to know if it's possible to get a copy of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy by owl from anywhere? We went to Diagon Alley at Easter, but we didn't know to get one then, and Uncle Vernon doesn't know when we will be able to arrange to go again. Somebody told him that we must have a guard if we go again._

 _Yours Faithfully,_

 _Harry Potter._

* * *

(Letter dated: Tuesday 19th May, 1987)

 _Dear Harry,_

 _The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy is a rather long document, and I do not believe that a copy could be conveniently sent by owl to anyone without the use of magic at both ends of the delivery. I am afraid that your uncle may have to go to Diagon Alley, or get a witch or wizard to fetch a copy for him. However, since it is also a very complicated document, your uncle might in any case find it useful to obtain a special book which, besides providing the text, discusses the statute in detail, including mentioning examples of how courts and governments have said that it applies at different times and in different countries. There are a number of such books, by different authors; I append a list below, of some of the commonly available ones which might be found on sale in Diagon Alley._

 _Being able to use a dictionary is a very useful skill, and I encourage you to work hard at mastering it. It may seem very difficult to you, and you may have days when you do not seem to make any progress at all, but keep on trying. See how close that you can get to my record – I was able to use a dictionary with no trouble by the time that I was seven._

 _My best wishes to you and your aunt and uncle._

 _Yours Truly,_

 _Remus Lupin._

* * *

Author Notes:

So, a handful of letters, indicating how Harry and Remus' correspondence kicks off in this universe. Beyond this update I assume that letters continue to go back and forth (by owl) but they will not be featured unless particularly pertinent to events. Remus' ability to respond immediately to letters from Harry is in some cases constrained by Remus' need to carry out research and/or by periods of the full-moon rendering him too ill to do much.

Harry has, of course, been more than acquainted by now with some of those books on calligraphy from Diagon Alley...

Harry's aunt is trying to turn a blind eye to the supernatural aspects of the 'Wizarding World' by concentrating really hard on matters of proper behaviour/tradition/etiquette. She's telling herself (at the moment) that the Greengrasses and Harry on his father's side are 'just' members of _really_ old and 'aristocratic' families...

I assume that the (fresh out of Hogwarts) versions of James/Sirius/Remus/Peter in this universe weren't the sort of people likely to naturally endear themselves to Petunia, even before the whole Lily-(and James)-being-killed-by-Voldemort business.

Harry Potter wiki (at the time of the posting of this chapter) has no specific information on the full length of the canon International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. It does, however, indicate that 'Clause 73' (regarding the concealment, care, and control of magical beasts, beings and spirits) was added in 1750, and in the couple of centuries or so between then and the time of Harry Potter, it seems to me that it will have only got longer and longer. I assume that by the 1980's, it must be quite a hefty (and complex) document.

Remus Lupin being able to use a dictionary by the age of seven is nothing I have canon information on, but it seems to me probably 'in character'. Canon Remus was infected with lycanthropy before the age of five, after which his parents (according to the wikia) forbade him contact with other children – as a consequence of which, from an early age, I see him as having (at least for the purposes of this story) spent a lot of time on his own, reading...

Remus Lupin doesn't like to proffer his own services as a possible guard (or even to 'fetch' things), since that seems to him something much too 'forward' at this stage in his acquaintance with Harry and the Dursleys. If/when Vernon contacts Albus to try and arrange a further excursion to Diagon Alley, Remus will be raised as a possible guard/guide, though.

I didn't consider it necessary for the sake of the narrative at this point to research and compose the list of texts which Remus Lupin will have included with the letter dated 19th May, 1987.

The next chapter is due to focus on events around Dudley's seventh birthday.


	6. June 20th - June 28th, 1987

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: This chapter is the last one to be cross-posted of which the main thrust was already written. Even without taking into account any other circumstances, there may well be substantial delays beyond this point to further updates. As a reminder, this story is taking place in an alternate universe, where James Potter betrothed Harry to Daphne Greengrass – the ripples from which, after it was revealed the previous October, are starting to more and more affect Harry's life at Privet Drive.

Further Note: This chapter touches on events during the period around Dudley Dursley's (seventh) birthday in 1987, from Saturday the 20th of June, to Sunday the 28th; during this period 'Aunt Marge' comes to stay at Privet Drivet. (Dudley's actual birthday is June the 23rd.) This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

Harry did _not_ like 'Aunt Marge'.

For that matter, Dudley didn't think much of her, either, but Dudley _did_ like the presents that she tended to buy him for Christmas and birthdays – things like enormous jars of sweets, and toy guns and a 'Red Indian' wigwam (the last of which, presents, despite being bought for him a year ago, Dudley still had yet to use). Dudley would put up with her smothering hugs and kisses because Aunt Marge bought him stuff. (It was something of a relief to Harry that Aunt Marge had never yet tried to hug or kiss _him_.)

Aunt Marge had been _supposed_ to come at Christmas, but had eaten a 'bad oyster' the week before that, whilst on holiday in Bermuda (wherever that was) and had had to spend Christmas in hospital there.

She had come to Privet Drive to stay for a week now, however, for Dudley's seventh birthday.

Aunt Marge was a large woman – practically as big and beefy as Uncle Vernon – and she liked bulldogs (which she apparently sold) a great deal. On this visit she had brought a bulldog puppy with her which she had called 'Ripper', and which she seemed to think 'had great promise'. Apparently Ripper was a 'pedigree dog' and was already a great favourite of Aunt Marge.

Ripper made Harry feel nervous. Ripper was a puppy, so he looked sort-of-cute at the moment, but he also looked sort-of-mean, Harry thought.

And during dinner the first night of her stay, Aunt Marge talked very loudly about how even dogs of good pedigree could turn out highly temperamental 'and go to seed, unless taken-in-hand with firm discipline, early on'. She'd kept on glancing at Harry for some reason during that conversation. Harry had no idea what she seemed to be getting at, but it was something which had Aunt Petunia (and occasionally Uncle Vernon) nodding along, nonetheless. It had to be something which only made sense to adults.

* * *

Aunt Marge had brought several birthday presents for Dudley with her, of course; she'd actually brought Harry a present too, which consisted of a stick which he was apparently supposed to put up the back of his shirt, to 'help him sit up straight at the table'.

Oh well. It was better than the tin of dog food which she'd given Harry the last time that she'd visited.

Aunt Marge's presence in the house left Harry rather relieved when he ended up being assigned to 'waiting duties' during Dudley's party on the day of his actual birthday (which was on Tuesday) this year. Aunt Marge seemed to think that hitting and poking Harry during party-games to try and make sure that he messed up and did worse than Dudley was a good idea; fetching and carrying things from the kitchen and doing the table meant that Harry stayed out of any games and well out of 'prodding' range of Aunt Marge. The 'waiting' on people was actually apparently part of the 'good manners' training that Harry was supposed to be having – although a difficult part of it was that it meant having to wear a bow tie (which Harry simply hadn't been able to work out the instructions for putting on, and which in the end Harry had had to rely on Uncle Vernon to do up for him).

Anyway, Dudley's party finished up as having been sort-of-a-success. Most of Dudley's friends enjoyed themselves, and they all practically ignored Harry – it was like putting on the bow tie and being a 'waiter' had made Harry practically invisible for the occasion, with only his hands being seen if he was bringing or taking away stuff. And at the end of the party one of Dudley's friends stole Ripper and took him home with him, which made Aunt Marge forget all about Harry, until after the boy's father, shame-faced, brought the dog back the next morning.

* * *

Besides Dudley having a party on his actual birthday, Dudley also went out 'as a special treat' to the cinema on Saturday afternoon with some of his friends and Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia (although the puppy-stealer, who had been originally supposed to go too, was removed from the list of those invited).

Whilst Harry had been left at home with Uncle Vernon to write his latest letter to Mr. Lupin, Dudley and the others had gone to see _The Chipmunk Adventure_. Apparently Dudley had wanted to see a new film called _The Witches of Eastwick_ , because, in Dudley's words, 'it's about magic', and Dudley had sulked for a bit when his mother had put her foot down and told him that they would be going to see _The Chipmunk Adventure_ instead. By the time that the moment for the trip and his friends had arrived, Dudley had recovered, and the expedition had set off with the boys excited by the promise of a story about a balloon race and diamond smuggling. The group came back from the cinema, though, with Dudley and his friends looking not very happy, and with Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge both looking very tired and a little bit cross. It was obvious to Harry that the trip had _not_ been a success, but nobody had said anything to him about what had gone wrong, until just before bedtime, when he and Dudley were exchanging 'goodnights' on the upstairs landing. Here, Dudley glanced about quickly to check there were no adults in obvious earshot, then passed on a quick comment to Harry about the trip in a low tone of voice:

"It would have been an okay film if it had been just me and mum." Dudley said under his breath. "There was some action, but there was all this silly singing in it too, and there was a gang of _girls_ in it as well as a gang of boys, and a yucky bit about the girls wanting to take a penguin home. It was a really _awful_ film to go and see with Piers and the others. I'm sure the film about witches would have been loads better."

Dudley had become very interested in magic ever since the trip at Easter to Diagon Alley and the purchase of the box of 'popup spiders'. For several weeks once school started up again after the Easter holidays, teachers of Dudley and Harry's year at school had been finding spiders crawling out of registers and exercise books. And then school had actually ended up being _closed_ for a day and a half, whilst the exterminators were called in, after the half-box left by then of popup spiders had become somehow shaken up in Dudley's desk and all become activated just before a class desk inspection. The teacher carrying out the inspection had actually _screamed_ and fled from the classroom upon looking in Dudley's desk, resulting in Dudley becoming immensely popular with the class for a week or so, and a letter being sent home about Dudley 'keeping unsuitable pets in his desk'. Uncle Vernon had chuckled about the letter and told Aunt Petunia that it 'showed the low standard of character of primary school teachers these days' – and Uncle Vernon had led Aunt Petunia to think that Dudley had collected all the spiders from the garden and garage.

After that, Dudley had been unable to get any further contact with _actual_ magic other than looking after Penfold, for which he had assumed (for now) responsibility.

Uncle Vernon had made some vague promise to Dudley about maybe going back to 'the joke shop' at the end of the summer holidays, but had told Dudley that otherwise they needed to keep their heads down for the moment, to avoid raising any suspicions on the part of Aunt Petunia.

Penfold, Harry thought, as he and Dudley headed into their separate bedrooms for the night, was doing very well out of Dudley's currently being interested in but-not-able-to-get-at-most-things-magical. Penfold was at the moment a _very well fed_ owl, and Dudley spent a lot of time (when not out with his friends) talking to the owl. Dudley even insisted on being allowed to clean Penfold's cage out, occasionally…

* * *

The next morning, with the celebrations for Dudley's birthday now well and truly over for the year, Aunt Marge (after further hugs with Dudley, and Dudley doing his best to look solemn and to say 'thank you' for the presents) had rounded up Ripper and gone.

Harry was relieved: he'd escaped without getting much of Aunt Marge's attention at all for most of this visit, although he'd had to write her a note to say thank you for 'the lovely stick to help me with my manners'.

What made it a particular relief for Harry to see Aunt Marge go this time, though, was that once or twice she'd _smiled_ at him during this stay. It wasn't a nice, friendly, smile, such as she often gave to Uncle Vernon, or showered upon Dudley, but it wasn't a mean or _nasty_ smile, either. It frankly confused and scared Harry a little bit, to see Aunt Marge showing her teeth at him like that.

* * *

Author Notes:

Aunt Marge's 'bad oyster' in the Bahamas referred to in this chapter is due to my discovery when researching/writing the material posted in this chapter that actually, Aunt Marge _should_ , according to the Harry Potter wikia, have been to stay at Privet Drive for Christmas, in 1986. Having not made any reference to Aunt Marge being there at Christmas (1986) in earlier sections of this story, and she being such a personality that I felt that if she had been present at that Christmas that it ought to have been mentioned before, I felt it necessary to provide a 'reason' for there being no reference to Christmas 1986 with Aunt Marge.

I'm not sure (at the time of initial posting of these notes) how old canon 'Ripper' is by the time that he is first officially 'featured' in canon in the summer of 1993 in _Prisoner of Azkaban_. I've taken the liberty of assuming that he's a puppy in this universe in June, 1987.

Behind the scenes in this story, by the time of this chapter Vernon is assumed to have told Aunt Marge something about Harry's father 'actually turning out to have been an aristocrat who was a bit wild'.

June 1987 seems to have been a bit thin on the ground as far as films suitable for seven year olds and likely to have been showing in UK cinemas goes; out of what was available (after having to discard my initial choice, after it turned out to have been a television release) , I thought that Petunia would think _The Chipmunk Adventure_ most likely to appeal to (and be suited for) Dudley and his friends. ( _The Witches of Eastwick_ would have in any case been much too 'old' for Dudley, but that didn't stop Dudley from wanting to see it on the basis of its 'cool' sounding name.)

The next chapter, (whenever it comes), will be concerned with the opening of Harry's seventh birthday, to which celebrations Daphne Greengrass is invited...


	7. July 31st, 1987 (part 1)

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: This story is (for now), bar minor corrections/revisions on hiatus for a while, whilst I push forwards with some updates of material set in the 'Saint Potter?' universe, and post some one-shots. I intend (time and health permitting) to come back to 'Harry Potter and the Greengrass Connection' at some point, but when that will be is (in March, 2016) unknown to me. As a reminder, this story is taking place in an alternate universe, where James Potter betrothed Harry to Daphne Greengrass – the ripples from which, after it was revealed in October, 1986, are starting to more and more affect Harry's life at Privet Drive.

Clarifications:

1) Where there is a reference to Dudley wearing 'braces', it is used in the UK sense of the word, and indicative (in this case) of the devices used to keep trousers up. I gather that outside of the UK these items of clothing support are sometimes known as 'suspenders'.

2) Where there is reference to 'football' it is referring to the game known in the UK as that, and to the ball which it is played with. This game is known in other countries as 'soccer' I am given to understand.

Further Note: This chapter touches on events during the morning of Harry Potter's (seventh) birthday in 1987, Friday, 31st July. The next update (whenever it's written and posted) will continue to cover events during Harry's seventh birthday. This story is rated 'T'.

* * *

It was Friday, the 31st of July, 1987, and it was Harry's seventh birthday. Harry was a bit nervous today, because he'd never had a birthday before, or not one of his own, where people _did stuff because it was his birthday_ that he could remember. Maybe he might have done on his first birthday when his parents were still alive, but he'd been a baby back then, and he couldn't remember _that_.

And he'd actually got _birthday presents_ back across the road at number four. Real wrapped-up things from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and from Dudley. Plus there was a parcel from Mr. Lupin. And one from Aunt Marge which – given that it _was_ from Aunt Marge – Harry wasn't sure would 'count' or not. And there would probably be one from Daphne when she arrived.

Actually, Harry hadn't unwrapped anything yet, because it might be rude to do so before his special guest, Daphne, arrived, but it wasn't even nine o' clock in the morning yet, and the time already spent this morning staring at the mysterious packages lined up for him back at number four had been practically as good as actually ripping the paper off.

Okay, there weren't anywhere near as many parcels as Dudley got for one of his birthdays, but Dudley had lots and lots of friends, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were Dudley's mum and dad; Harry's parents had died years ago and Harry wasn't sure if he was allowed friends – even if Dudley was being nicer to him, these days – because of who Harry was and what Aunt Petunia called 'good manners'.

Anyway, Harry was now waiting in their neighbour Mrs. Figg's living room, shortly after breakfast, with Uncle Vernon. Both Harry and Uncle Vernon were dressed as what Uncle Vernon described as 'smart but practical' because they were going out later – and 'going out' to do much more than just visit a neighbour.

Mrs. Figg, in her usual slightly shabby clothes, was fussing around, and kept looking at the fireplace for some reason, as if she were expecting it to do something. It was a fairly large fireplace, with a stone bottom, but otherwise all in brick beneath the mantel shelf, and there was a very small fire currently burning in it. Harry had no idea what was interesting Mrs. Figg about it so much at the moment?

Mrs. Figg was an elderly lady who had a lot of cats, but she'd made sure that the living room was clear of the cats right now. The room's usual slightly cabbagey smell had been replaced with one of polish, and Mrs. Figg also seemed to have hoovered the carpet.

Apparently Mrs. Figg was a retired witch – or a retired witch who hadn't _actually_ been a magical witch, or something complicated like that.

Anyway: it had been arranged, because Mrs. Figg was or wasn't a witch (or whatever it was), that Daphne would arrive here today.

Daphne needed to arrive here today, because it was Harry's birthday and – because of the whole betrothal thing – Daphne was practically automatically invited to join Harry to celebrate today.

And then – to Harry's surprise – the fire suddenly turned green, and roared up; the next moment, keeping his head low to avoid the sticking out mantelpiece, Mr. Greengrass came stepping up out of the fire, with a polished wooden stick out and in hand (was that his wand Harry wondered?) and a careful expression on his face as he straightened up and looked around the room. The fire died back down again behind him. It didn't seem to have hurt or burnt Mr. Greengrass in any way.

Apart from the stick (wand?) Harry thought that Mr. Greengrass looked much as Harry remembered from October – a tall brown-haired man, in a smart, dark, business suit, perfectly ironed white shirt, and a swirling black cloak. His grey eyes roamed the room, seeming to look over everything, before he spoke to Harry and his uncle.

"Mr. Dursley. Mr. Potter." Mr. Greengrass nodded to both of them. Then he turned his attention onto Mrs. Figg.

"Arabella Figg." Mrs. Figg said, introducing herself, and awkwardly nodding her head. She currently had a slightly embarrassed look on her face and her arms full of cat, one of which had just sneaked back into the room.

"Ahem. Please be at liberty to call me 'Vernon'." Uncle Vernon said to Mr. Greengrass.

Mr. Greengrass returned his attention to Uncle Vernon and cocked his head slightly on one side, apparently considering.

"Very well then… In light of whom you currently stand in guardianship to… 'Vernon'." Mr Greengrass said.

Both of the men seemed to Harry to be trying not to look at Mrs. Figg, and it seemed to Harry almost as if they were _acting_ , for the benefit of Mrs. Figg and her cat. He knew his uncle had been writing to Mr. Greengrass a lot in recent weeks…

Mr. Greengrass tucked his (probable) wand away in an inside-pocket of his suit jacket, produced a pocket watch which he glanced at, then after counting for a few moments under his breath, put the watch away, and took two smart steps to the side.

The fire roared up and turned green, again, and this time, emerging from it, came Daphne.

Whereas her father had strode confidently out of it, when he arrived, Daphne was a bit wobbly on her feet, and looked slightly sick for a moment, and her father put a hand out to help her steady herself. Daphne pulled a face and took several deep breaths.

Today Daphne was wearing shiny black shoes which looked practically new, dark green socks, a black dress, and a smart navy blue duffel coat. She had a pair of dark green hairclips with pale-green-and-yellow flower decorations in her hair. She was clutching a parcel that looked about as long on each side as one of Uncle Vernon's 'foot long' technical rulers, and it was wrapped in pale green paper and tied up with yellow ribbon. Behind her the fire died down again.

"Daphne. I shall commit you to the care of Harry and his guardians for the day." Mr. Greengrass said. Having looked at Daphne, to make sure she was okay, or that was what Harry thought, Mr. Greengrass was now looking at Harry and Uncle Vernon as he spoke. "I shall come to collect you at the arranged time, this evening. Harry you already know; this is his uncle, Mr. Dursley; and the good squib, whose floo connection we are using to facilitate our travel arrangements today, is Mrs. Figg."

Daphne nodded, and looked around. She looked _very_ nervous right now.

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat, and it looked to Harry as if the next thing he said was being recited from a script, again for the benefit of the audience:

"Sir? If it would not be too much trouble, when you call this evening, I should like to hear your thoughts on boarding schools which your world offers. In particular, the details of the schools near Hogsmeade and near Baghdad."

"Of course… Vernon." Mr. Greengrass nodded, and then he turned to bend down and give Daphne a hug and a kiss on the cheek, whilst whispering something in her ear which caused her to nod. Then, from somewhere on his person Mr. Greengrass had produced a handful of powder which he threw into the fire whilst muttering something that Harry couldn't quite hear, and the fire went green again. Mr. Greengrass ducked down and stepped forward into the flames and vanished from sight.

The fire died down again.

* * *

"Why do we need a parasol, sir?" Daphne asked, as Uncle Vernon retrieved his big black umbrella from the stand in Mrs. Figg's front hall. "My father said we would be staying in England."

"Ah. But this is an umbrella, which is waterproof." Uncle Vernon beamed, as Mrs. Figg opened the front door for them. (Mrs. Figg had now set down the cat which had sneaked into the living room earlier.) "Which is just as well, since it _is_ raining outside. Mustn't let good clothes get any wetter than need be."

"Oh." Daphne said, looking surprised as Uncle Vernon stepped out and in one swift move raised and opened his umbrella, against the fat rain droplets thudding occasionally from the sky. "That's clever…"

Uncle Vernon's beam increased.

"Eminently practical, too." he added.

Harry quickly waved goodbye to Mrs. Figg then followed Daphne and Uncle Vernon out of the front door.

"Umm." Daphne said, glancing backwards, then lowering her voice slightly to address Uncle Vernon quietly, as she, Harry, and Uncle Vernon headed down the front path clumped underneath the umbrella. "My father said, Mr. Dursley, that I shouldn't talk about magic today, because it might upset your wife, Harry's aunt."

"Quite right too." Uncle Vernon nodded, lowering his tone himself, having glanced backwards too. Harry took a look backwards as well and could only think that that they were worried about being overheard by Mrs. Figg, who was standing watching them from her front door. One of her cats was now sitting on her feet. "A prudent man, your father." Uncle Vernon had meanwhile said.

" _Why_ does magic upset her?" Daphne quietly asked.

"We wait here, and check that there's no traffic coming." Uncle Vernon raised his voice and halted them on the pavement, at the edge of the road, and looked up and down. "It's a quiet road, but you ought to get into practice, Daphne, for visits to us." He looked both ways, and Daphne followed suit, looking slightly confused. "Right: no oncoming vehicles, so we cross." Uncle Vernon continued and then lowered his tone again. "And to answer your question, Daphne, magic upsets her because of bad things which happened with her sister, Harry's mother, which were to do with magic."

"Oh." Daphne said. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Dursley. I'll _try_ not to say anything about magic."

"Very bad business and most considerate of you, young lady. Probably best for you not to mention her sister, either, though, unless she brings it up." Uncle Vernon added. "Might upset her, too."

"Yes, Mr. Dursley." Daphne nodded.

This was the first time Harry had heard _any_ explanation for why Aunt Petunia didn't ever seem very happy about magical things, and he thought about it as they crossed the road and headed up the front path of number four. Well: he thought about that and he wondered what on Earth a 'parasol' thing was, which Daphne had thought at first that Uncle Vernon's umbrella was?

Mrs. Figg, Harry incidentally noticed, watched them from her front doorstep all the way to the front door of number four, and only went back into her own house and closed her front door once the door of number four opened in response to Uncle Vernon's press on the doorbell.

* * *

"Mum! Dad and Harry are back, from their trip to get Harry's girlfriend!" Dudley shouted out, having opened the front door.

Dudley was at least dressed. There were buttons still undone, and a smear of strawberry jam on one cheek, but in his white shirt and dark trousers and braces he did look at least half way towards 'smart'.

"Now, now, Dudley." Aunt Petunia bustled up to join Dudley at the door. She was smartly dressed, in a flowery purple-pink dress, with a gold harp brooch pinned to it, and with a necklace of very small pearls around her neck – although she _also_ currently had yellow rubber gloves on her hands, to which soap suds were clinging, and clutched a damp dishcloth in one of them. "Remember what I said: I'm sure that the Greengrasses are much too _nice_ a family to produce anything as vulgar as 'girlfriends'. 'Betrothed' is the polite word to use, or 'intended' if you want to be informal." She expertly dabbed at Dudley's cheek with the cloth, removing all signs of jam, then gently 'shooed' him away: "Go and finish doing your buttons up Dudley, there's a good boy, and comb your hair. And hurry up if you want to see Harry open his presents." Then she turned her gaze to inspect Daphne.

"Petunia, this is Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, this is Mrs. Dursley." Uncle Vernon introduced them to one another.

The two females looked at one another for a few moments, then Daphne, without putting the present that she was clutching down, did a sort of curtsey, with a nod of her head and said _very_ politely: "Mrs. Dursley."

Aunt Petunia actually _smiled_ slightly, and her gaze fixed on Daphne's hair.

"Your hair looks particularly nice, Daphne." Aunt Petunia said.

Did it? Harry wasn't really an expert at this sort of thing, and had no idea if it did or not.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley." Daphne went slightly pink in the cheeks. "My mother and I were almost fifteen minutes brushing it, this morning, just before I came out."

Aunt Petunia's smile _increased_. For some reason this news pleased her very much.

"Well come in. And would you like me to get you a glass of squash?"

It seemed to Harry that for now Aunt Petunia had decided that she liked Daphne quite a lot.

* * *

By the time that Dudley arrived, in the sitting room, Daphne had already half-drunk the glass of orange squash that Aunt Petunia had got her, and Harry had already unwrapped the football (from Daphne), the new wellington boots (from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon – Aunt Petunia had decided that given the weather this summer, wellingtons were more appropriate than sunglasses) and the pocket compass and book for children about maps from Mr. Lupin. Harry had been surprised to be told at Easter a couple of days after the visit to Diagon Alley that the mysterious 'R.L.' who had been sending him Christmas and birthday cards for years was in fact a godfather to Harry, 'Remus Lupin', who was a bit shy because he'd managed to upset Aunt Petunia very badly years earlier. Since Harry was now writing to Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Lupin was sending birthday presents and signing his name, instead of just initials, Harry could only think that something must have changed there, at Easter.

"Ohhhh." Dudley groaned in disappointment, taking in the scene. "He's unwrapped half the things already, mum."

"I _did_ say you ought to hurry up, Dudley." Aunt Petunia said.

"Who's the football from?" Dudley asked.

"That was from Daphne." Aunt Petunia replied.

"Hey, that's good. And it explains the present that Dad took me shopping to get." Dudley said.

That was what Harry was actually unwrapping at the moment, and it turned out to be an (at the moment rather large for Harry) footballer's shirt and pair of goalkeeping gloves.

Harry guessed that Uncle Vernon and Mr. Greengrass must have been writing to one another to match that up, but Harry didn't mind. It was amazing to be bought things like a football or some clothes to wear when playing with it.

"…I had dreams of being a ballerina, when I was your age, but my father was of the wrong political stripe for the committee that ran the local ballet school…" Aunt Petunia, Dudley temporarily dealt with, had gone back to explaining something to Daphne.

Harry looked between the last two remaining presents, and decided to get Aunt Marge's out of the way, and to finish off with the other one from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Aunt Marge's was probably going to be something embarrassing, and Harry wanted to finish with something that would (at least compared to whatever Aunt Marge had got him) be relatively _nice_.

"This is from Aunt Marge." Harry announced ripping off the paper, anxious to get whatever it was over and done with.

It turned out to be a large, old-looking book, and there had been a note inside the wrapping paper with it, which Harry read out loud: 'To balance on your head to help with your comportment.'

Harry had come across that word 'comportment' before. It was something to do with 'etiquette' and 'good manners'.

And Aunt Marge had probably picked the book up cheap at a second hand bookshop or jumble sale, Harry rather suspected.

Uncle Vernon looked slightly embarrassed at the note.

Daphne looked puzzled.

"Is 'Aunt Marge' French?" Daphne asked.

"No. She's as English as the Queen." Uncle Vernon said.

"Oh." Daphne's look of puzzlement increased. "It's just that the book she's bought is French, isn't it" – it did have a title _Les mille et une nuits_ – "and the only other person I know who does comportment like that is Mrs. Black, who makes Betelgeuse balance a book on her head when walking around, and Betelgeuse is only four. Although there is nothing wrong with Mrs. Black," Daphne hastily added, "or her doing it. Only Mrs. Black's French, so I thought it might be a foreign thing…"

Dudley had picked up the book and started looking through it:

"It's all in foreign, but there are old-fashioned looking pictures. Hey, is that a genie and an Arab in this one? Is this a storybook?"

Harry craned his neck trying to get a look at what was supposed to be _his_ book – even if it had been originally bought to help him with his 'comportment', and it turning out to be a storybook in any language (let alone a storybook with a picture of a genie and an Arab in it) was probably due to Aunt Marge not looking at it closely enough when she bought it.

"Yes, it's a storybook, Dudley. To encourage Harry to learn French." Uncle Vernon looked relieved. "And I'm sure the bit about comportment is just Aunt Marge's idea of a joke."

"Is Betelgeuse a French name, dear?" Aunt Petunia asked Daphne.

"I think it's the name of a star or planet or comet or something." Daphne said. "The Blacks like names like that."

Dudley belatedly noticed Harry's attention and went crimson, and hurriedly passed the book back to Harry. Harry flicked through it and sure enough there was an old-fashioned picture of someone foreign looking (Harry wasn't sure if it was an 'Arab' or not, but it was a man with a turban and a beard) with one hand raised and a ring prominent on it, whilst nearby, floating off the ground, was another man who was clearly supposed to be a genie. There were sand dunes in the background. Harry flicked through the book some more, finding pictures of men with scimitars trying to fight a giant bird, some sort of metal statue or robot falling off a rock into the sea, and a scene with lots of foreign looking people in a foreign looking place with domes on the buildings involved in some sort of parade or celebration.

Harry put the book down slowly, and closed it. Writing a thank you letter to Aunt Marge was going to be very awkward. Was he supposed to let her know what she'd actually got him or not?

Harry was still pondering that as he unwrapped the last present, from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, which turned out to be a small silver teapot for some reason.

"Your mother bought that for me, one Christmas." Aunt Petunia said to Harry, her voice and face odd. "I thought you'd like it."

Oh. Wherever it had been, Aunt Petunia must have been keeping it hidden somewhere, because Harry couldn't remember having ever seen it before.

Harry was relieved at this moment about 'etiquette' because he was pretty sure that it saved him from having to do anything like hug or kiss Aunt Petunia for this, which might embarrass them both. Instead he said: "Thank you very much, Aunt." in a _really_ grateful voice. And then he added another thank-you to Uncle Vernon, since the present had been labelled as coming from him as well, even though everyone in the room (except maybe Dudley) surely knew that this must have been mostly from Aunt Petunia.

* * *

Author Notes: (Subject to revision, initially)

The flowers on Daphnes hairclips are laurel flowers; Greek mythology contains a tale of a nymph named Daphne who was turned into a laurel, so Daphne's family consider laurel flowers thematically appropriate jewellery for Daphne.

This installment was initially written before an (early 2016) J.K. Rowling release on information about magical schools in the canon world. The school 'near Hogsmeade' that is referred to in conversation between Uncle Vernon and Mr. Greengrass in front of Mrs. Figg is of course Hogwarts. The school 'near Baghdad' is my own invention, but given the fantastic stories featuring Baghdad in real world culture, it seemed to me the sort of place which might have a magical school nearby. Writing these notes in March, 2016, this may end up as an aspect of this universe which ends up at odds with some future 'official' announcements about canon magical schools.

As far as I can tell from online records, the UK summer of 1987 was a damp one. Regarding Daphne, and umbrellas, I assume that due to magical transportation and protections she's never had cause to travel outside in the rain and to have seen an umbrella in use before. (The Greengrass home at St. George's Hill is set sufficiently far back and screened by walls/vegetation in its own grounds that Daphne will not have seen muggles on the road outside using umbrellas, either.) Daphne _is_ familiar with parasols, however, from their use for shade on hot sunny days.

The news that Daphne and her mother spent a quarter of an hour or so brushing Daphne's hair (a 'normal' activity, rather than just waving a wand at it) helps Petunia to 'see' Daphne as being 'just a normal child', albeit one from a 'good' family.

The pictures in the book which Aunt Marge has sent Harry are described as 'old-fashioned looking' because they are line drawings.

I have, as far as I know, invented for this universe the details of Petunia's reference to having wanted to be a ballerina, and the gift by Lily of a small silver teapot to Petunia one Christmas. These details may or may not be at odds with canon.

Betelgeuse and her mother are non-canon, resulting from events which occurred after the point of departure from canon.

The next installment of this story will (when posted) include a journey to Horsted Keynes…


End file.
